The S5 computer system routinely pegged errant subsea sounds as hostile underwater craft. But when investigated, the probable contacts turned into false alarms. The AI technology was part of the problem but the inexperience of the S5 staff also contributed to questionable performance of the overall surveillance system.
High on the PLAN’s list of needs was improved submarine detection technology. The MSS and the PLA’s Second Bureau were authorized to entice potential foreign turncoats with offers of mountains of cash. The hackers in the PLA’s Unit 61398 in Shanghai were offered cash bonuses including luxury apartments if they could digitally steal subsea secrets from the U.S. Navy and its legions of private contractors.
This afternoon, a PLA naval officer and a civilian scientist from the University of Science and Technology of China (USTC) met in a second floor conference room of S5. Captain Zhou Jun was the commander of the South Sea Sound Surveillance System. An inch under six feet, his tailored summer uniform revealed a sinewy frame. His full black mane, honed to military length, was freckled with specks of gray. He wore a pair of wire rim glasses that complimented his handsome, distinguished face.
Facing Zhou across the conference table was Dr. Meng Park. In her mid-thirties, Meng was exceptionally attractive. Tall with a svelte frame and mid-back length jet-black hair, she frequently turned heads. Today she wore a plain cotton dress that flattered her subtle curves and displayed her shapely legs. Meng earned her Ph.D. in electrical engineering from MIT. After completing a postdoc fellowship at the University of California Berkeley and working a year at a Silicon Valley tech firm, she returned to China where she accepted an Associate Professorship with USTC. Her specialty was robotics.
Dr. Meng just arrived at S5. She and Zhou had met numerous times before.
“Thank you for coming on such short notice,” Captain Zhou said.
Meng Park cast a friendly smile. “I’m always happy to come to Sanya. Hefei is awful right now. Scorching and no wind. Here, it is delightful.” The City of Hefei was located about two hundred and fifty miles west of Shanghai. With a population of nearly eight million, it was the capital and the largest city in China’s Anhui Province.
Zhou returned the smile. “No doubt, Sanya is the best duty assignment I’ve had. It is wonderful here alright.” Forty-four years old, Captain Zhou had served aboard a warship early in his career and later was posted to a half a dozen naval bases scattered between China’s three fleet commands. Because of his exceptional technical aptitude and keen management abilities, he was selected for fast-track advancement. A benefit of the career program that Zhou was assigned to was advanced education, which resulted in Zhou earning a Ph.D. in Information Science and Technology from China’s prestigious Tsinghua University.
Captain Zhou dropped the bombshell. “Fleet has ordered S5 to accelerate the deployment of Serpent.”
Caught off guard, Meng Park said, “How soon?”
“Immediately.”
Dr. Meng glowered. “But we’re not ready. We’ve barely started field testing.”
“I understand. Nevertheless, Beijing has ordered the immediate deployment of your system.” Zhou grabbed a water bottle on the table and took a swig. “Park, we had a serious intrusion at Yulin several weeks ago.”
“By an AUV?”
“No, divers. Launched from a minisub offshore of the base.”
“Did they get inside the harbor?” she asked, taken aback. Meng had helped design the underwater defense system for the Yulin Naval Base, which was located about ten miles east of Sanya.
“They did, and they inflicted serious damage to the base.”
“Americans?”
“We believe so but have no hard evidence yet.”
Dr. Meng processed the news. “None of the sensors detected the intrusion?”
“Nothing on the divers but a hydrophone did pick up the minisub about half a kilometer off the harbor’s southern entrance. Drone patrol boats investigated but were not successful in targeting the intruder.”
Meng grabbed the water bottle on her side of the table. After removing the cap, she took a long sip. “What about the ships at Yulin? Were they damaged?”
Captain Zhou pined. “Park, they’re all dead in the water.”
“What? How can that be?”
“The divers set off an EMP device. The microwave burst fried the electronics in just about everything aboard the ships and the base’s shore facilities.”
The color of Meng’s face faded as the news registered. “I’ve heard nothing about this.”
“Beijing does not want to alarm the people, especially after what happened in Qingdao.” Captain Zhou sugarcoated Beijing’s herculean efforts to suppress the dreadful news about the Yulin attack. Until the PLA could confirm for certain who sabotaged the base, the news blackout would continue. Only when the culprit was identified would China seek revenge. “Park, I’m letting you know what happened because of the gravity of the situation. However, you must not repeat anything I tell you about Yulin.”
“Of course, I understand.” Meng crossed her legs. “What is being done to repair the damage?”
“Fleet is currently trying to restore power to both carriers but it’s a tough process. The computers controlling the power plants are burned out. Replacing them is a nightmare.”
Dr. Meng grimaced, aghast at the destruction.
“It’s not all bad,” Zhou offered. “None of the missile subs moored inside the mountain were affected.” The subterranean chamber was hollowed out of rock inside a hillside along the eastern shoreline of the Yulin base. A tunnel connected the sub pens to the harbor.
“That’s fortunate,” Meng said.
“Propulsion has also been restored to half a dozen frigates and destroyers. A couple have departed Yulin and are now at their homeports for additional repairs.” Zhou gripped his hands. “Even though we’ve had success in restoring propulsion power, almost all comms, radars and other sensors on the ships at Yulin are non-repairable. They will need to be completely replaced.”
“That’s awful.”
“Indeed.”
Meng took another drink of water. “Why was the Shandong at Yulin?” During her last visit to Hainan Island, the aircraft carrier was moored to its Shendao homeport pier just across the road from S5.
“The computers controlling the fuel system on the carrier pier malfunctioned. After Shandong returned from an exercise, it diverted to Yulin to fuel. Same for the Liaoning.”
“How convenient.”
“The carrier pier’s fuel system was hacked.”
Dr. Meng suppressed a curse, her fury nearly erupting. “It must be the Americans behind all of this. They have the means and the motivation.”
“Probably.”
“Immediate deployment of Serpent will be my highest priority.”
“Excellent,” Zhou said, pleased that Meng was now obviously motivated.
* * * *
Captain Zhou stayed in his office; Dr. Meng Park departed half an hour earlier, returning to her hotel room in Sanya. He had dinner reservations for 8 P.M. at one of their favorite restaurants in Sanya’s Jiyang District. It overlooked Dadonghai Bay and the South China Sea beyond. Both single, yet married to their careers, the Navy captain and the robotics professor hooked up frequently.
Zhou studied his orders from South Sea Fleet headquarters in Zhanjiang.
Park’s right! We’re not ready for deployment.
But he had no choice. Captain Zhou’s career now depended on Dr. Meng Park and her evolutionary machines.
She can do it—Serpent is the key to stopping the Americans!
Chapter 17
President Chen Shen leaned against the balcony railing of his official residence. He enjoyed his final Marlboro of the day while gazing at the illuminated grounds of the Zhongnanhai. Located adjacent to the Forbidden City, t
he Beijing enclave housing China’s national government consisted of over a dozen buildings—palaces, temples, halls and offices—scattered over 250 elegantly landscaped acres that included two lakes. Chen’s home was just a short walk from his office complex. It was a few minutes before ten o’clock. His wife had already retired to their bedroom.
Chen took one last drag. He had just snuffed out the butt in an ashtray when a guard stepped onto the balcony from the living room. “My apologies, Mr. President, but there’s an urgent phone call for you.”
“Who is it?”
“Deputy Minister Guo.”
President Chen relocated to an alcove off the home’s grand entryway. The amber light on the cradle of the encrypted phone sitting on Chen’s desk blinked. He picked up the handset. “What is it, Guo?” he said, his tone broadcasting annoyance.
“Sorry for the late hour,” Comrade President.” The MPS spymaster’s voice was dull, a washed-out monotone that resulted from the encryption software. “I just received an update on Qingdao. I thought you would want to know.”
Chen sensed bad news. “Go ahead.”
“You were correct, sir…about the Qingdao situation. We now believe the bomb was initially located at another position before it was moved to the actual detonation site.”
“Why would they do that?”
“It was not an intentional move,” Guo said. “We believe the bomb was supposed to have detonated in a Port of Qingdao waterway called the Middle Harbour. It’s located just south of the Qingdao Naval Base. The base may have been the actual target. We think the bomb was placed on the bottom but it was dug up accidentally by a dredge and disposed of in the mudflats north of the bay bridge.”
Dumbfounded by the news, President Chen asked, “How did you come up with this scenario?”
“The Qingdao MPS bureau did the legwork. They discovered that the port has had a harbor deepening project in the waterway for the past month or so. The dredged material from the channel was hauled away by barges to the mudflats where it was dumped. It was part of the Port’s plan to construct an artificial island in the bay to be used for marine habitat improvement.”
“That’s where the bomb blew up?”
“Correct, near the center of the fill site.”
Chen mulled over the latest developments. “What about the Uyghurs…how are they connected?”
“We have video of the boat they used running back and forth in the Port’s waterway, as if searching for something on the bottom.”
“Were they working for the Port?”
“No, and they weren’t working for the dredging contractor either. We now think they were searching for the bomb. Not finding it, they figured out it was dredged up. The boat crossed the bay to the mudflat area where it was obliterated when the bomb exploded.”
“Why would they blow themselves up?”
Guo said, “Our current theory is the bomb’s firing circuit was damaged when dug up by the dredge. We think the Uyghurs were trying to recover it at the mudflats when it accidentally detonated.”
President Chen cursed.
Guo continued, “We believe the Uyghurs’ plan was to return the bomb to the Middle Harbour.”
“If the naval base was the target, why use the waterway?”
“The bottom of the base and its entrance channel are regularly swept for mines. The Port’s commercial waterways are not.”
Chen pieced the puzzle parts together, alarmed more than ever. “Then it was just luck that we didn’t lose the base.”
“Correct, sir. The Qingdao Naval Base plus the Port’s cruise terminal and the residential towers on the south side of the waterway would have all been destroyed. A very conservative estimate of the death toll is fifteen thousand.”
“This does not sound like the Americans to me.”
“I concur. We are continuing to follow the Uyghur angle.”
“I think they’re just being used as a scapegoat.”
“Sir?” Guo said, unsure of President Chen’s comment.
“It’s the Russians—they’re on to us.”
Chapter 18
Day 9—Thursday
The Heilong surfaced at 1:20 A.M. Commander Yang Yu clambered up the tunnel ladder inside the submarine’s sail, opened the topside hatch and climbed onto the bridge deck where he stood upright. The bulky sea coat he wore swathed his lean, athletic frame. His gleaming teeth, wrinkle free skin and perfect facial symmetry all contributed to his attractiveness. His coal black hair, ruffled by the sea breeze, brushed his ears and hovered over his shirt collar. He needed a trim.
A couple of months away from forty, Yang had served as a line officer in the People’s Liberation Army-Navy for seventeen years. He was captain of the Heilong—one of China’s most advanced hunter-killer subs.
Yang wore a headset with microphone. He opened a watertight compartment in the sail’s bridge station and plugged the wire lead from the headset into a receptacle. “This is the captain,” he said, addressing the ship’s officer of the watch two decks below in the attack center. “I have the conn. Send up the watch standers.”
The watch officer acknowledged the order.
Two sailors followed Yang, taking up watch stations in the bridge well behind him. It was a moonless night in the Yellow Sea. Swells rolled in from the southeast, washing over the aft deck of the 377-foot-long warship. After tangling with U.S. subs near Hawaii, the Type 095 nuclear powered attack submarine took extreme care to ensure it was not followed home by the Americans.
The Heilong was three miles offshore of the Jianggezhuang Submarine Base. Located in Shandong Province, China’s oldest sub base was fifteen miles east of the Qingdao Naval Base. North Sea Fleet headquarters ordered Yang to bypass its temporary berth at Qingdao and return to its homeport at Jianggezhuang.
Commander Yang surveyed the distant shore with binoculars. Lights from buildings outlined the perimeter of the artificial harbor. Penetrating the upland light pollution was a single flashing red light. The beacon was a navigation aid. It marked the south breakwater of the base.
Yang retrieved a compact tablet from an inside pocket of his sea coat. He consulted the digital navigation chart. “Conn, bridge,” he said, activating his lip mic.
“Bridge, conn,” replied the watch officer.
“I have the outer marker of the breakwater in sight. Proceed on a heading of zero two eight. Make turns for eight knots.”
The WO repeated the order.
Yang turned about to address the observers. “Stay alert, men. We don’t have far to go but fishing boats work around here. They’re typically low to the water and many avoid using navigation lights to hide from the authorities.”
The sailors acknowledged the order while scanning the waters with binoculars. Overhead, an orbiting radar antenna also searched the sea surface.
Heilong’s captain savored the fresh air. The ship’s high tech oxygen generator and ventilation system produced clean air but it was sterile. Yang tasted the salt in his mouth; his nose captured a hint of earthiness.
Captain Yang Yu and his crew had been at sea for a month. He hoped the crew could enjoy shore leave but was uncertain how long they would stay in port.
Instead of mooring at its usual floating pier at Jianggezhuang, North Fleet Headquarters ordered the submarine to berth inside the coastal rise on the eastern shore of the base. Jianggezhuang had its own subterranean sub pens for housing boomers—similar to the Sanya-Yulin base. A tunnel connected the harbor to the hollowed out chamber inside the hillside.
This would be Yang’s and the Heilong’s first venture inside the underground seaport. A PLA Navy pilot would board the Heilong after it sailed into the harbor to guide the attack sub through the tunnel.
The concealed harbor was reserved exclusively for PLAN ballistic missile submarines. Jianggezhuang’s cavern included facilities for
the loading and servicing of nuclear tipped ICBMs as well as providing all other needs of the subs. By berthing China’s waterborne strategic weapon systems under several hundred feet of rock, military satellites from the USA, Russia and India were thwarted from spying on the missile boats.
Fleet provided Captain Yang with no explanation for deviating from the Heilong’s normal mooring arrangement, which piqued his curiosity. They must have something important planned for us—but what?
Anxious to find out what Fleet had in store for the Heilong, Yang Yu’s thoughts focused on another pressing matter. During the homeward voyage, Yang had been apprised of the nuclear detonation. Yang and most of his crew lived in Qingdao.
Although Yang’s apartment was not in the A-bomb’s fallout zone, his lover’s residence was. Sun Tao’s luxurious penthouse apartment in Qingdao’s Badaxia neighborhood had a sprawling view of the Yellow Sea. Married and the father of a fourteen-year-old daughter, Tao owned a booming restaurant in the financial district of Qingdao. Commander Yang and Tao had a longstanding relationship. They connected regularly when Yang was in port.
Captain Yang pictured his lover’s rugged face and brawny build.
Soon, Tao, soon!
* * * *
President Tyler Magnuson and National Security Advisor Peter Brindle were alone in the President’s private dining room near the Oval Office. It was a working lunch. After munching on health friendly tossed green salads and delicious halibut sandwiches—a specialty of the White House Chef—the two men enjoyed coffee while discussing pressing matters.
“When do you expect we’ll have the evidence to go after Moscow?” asked Magnuson. Russia’s scheme to incinerate Pearl Harbor with a nuclear weapon haunted the president.
“It’s complicated, sir. We know they’re behind it but we have scant physical evidence to definitively pin it on them. We’ve had no luck in identifying the source of plutonium, which we were expecting to have originated from a Russian or Soviet reactor.”
The Vigilant Spy Page 8
